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Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1857622
It was just a game.
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. Here I come, ready or not.”

Jamie blinked in the bright sunlight, squinting against the glare. He looked behind him, pushed his fingers through the holes in the chainlink fence, and pulled himself up, shaking first one leg then the other. The schoolyard was empty; nothing moved.

“Where’d they go,” he mumbled, then louder, “I see you, Dorie." Not one birdsong broke the eerie silence. The heat was stifling. Sweat popped out on Jamie's forehead.



The day began like all the other days of Jamie’s summer vacation so far, not really a vacation because he and his sister were attending summer school. Dorie was older but only by a year and a day. They were the new kids, still trying to catch up with the rest of the class. Dorie repeated a grade from before they moved.

“Come on, Jamie. Shake a leg. I’ll be late again if you don’t hurry it up.” Jamie's mom yelled to him from the bottom of the stairs.

Lucky to find a job with a local realtor, she did not want to rock the boat this early in the game. She knew the market back home, but she was still learning her way around here. And the economy was very bad. Jamie's dad was stuck back in Sandusky with the paper company, but he would be coming out here soon. His transfer was taking longer than they had reckoned on.

“Dorie, hurry up with those lunches. We’ve got to go.You kids come straight home from school and don't answer the door for anybody.”

Jamie's mom dropped them off at school even though they lived within walking distance.



Mrs. Sheridan had three other students in the summer class, not new like Jamie and Dorie, just lazy. Not working up to their ability was the report card version. Jody Miller lived out in the country somewhere. His dad dropped him off in a backfiring, rusty pickup truck. He let him find his way home any way he could. Sandy Wethersby was chauffeured to class by her older brother in his Mustang convertible. She lorded that over everybody. Last, but not least, was Donnie Wells, the wannabe bully of the group. He picked on Jamie, the baby of the small class, tripping him, sneaking up behind and giving his red head an Indian burn, and doing anything else he could think of to embarrass him. Jamie’s reactions always pleased Donnie..



“I don’t know why I have to be ‘it” anyway. I’m always “it”.

Muttering to himself some more, Jamie kicked up dirt with the toe of his tennis shoe and headed toward the running track and bleachers. Some big bushes lurked in back of them, just the right size and thickness for hiding behind.

As Jamie trudged along the fence, an olive-green van, hanging back a short distance, kept pace with him. Cigarette smoke curled out the cracked window. All the windows were too dark with film to see inside.

“Come on you guys. It’s too hot out here. Let’s go inside.” Jamie's mouth trembled as he looked over the deserted school yard.

No answer. Jamie saw something move over by the school bus entrance and headed that way instead. The van turned the corner and continued along, hanging back to be out of Jamie’s peripheral vision.



“All right class, are we ready to go back to work?”

Mrs. Sheridan clapped her hands together, and her rowdy students began to get back in their assigned seats. All but one.

“Where’s Jamie?”

Jody, Sandy, and Dorie kept their heads down, but Donnie focused his eyes on the teacher and shrugged his shoulders.

“How should we know?”

“You were all outside together, weren’t you?”

Dorie looked over at Donnie and mumbled something.

“Shut-up, Dorie.” Donnie balled his fists up as if he might strike her. Mrs. Sheridan walked between them.

“What was that, Dorie?”

Dorie looked like she was about to explode, and the words tumbled out as she spilled the beans.

“Donnie said we were playing “hide and seek”, and told Jamie he was “it”, so after Jamie hid his eyes and started counting, Donnie said it would be funny if we all came back inside and left him out there alone. I didn’t want to, but the others went along so I did too.”

“Tattle tale.” Donnie shouted at Dorie and scrunched down in his seat as Mrs. Sheridan turned to face him.

“What a horrible thing to do, Donald Wells. I’m ashamed of you treating our new classmate this way. I’ll be speaking to Principal Atkins about this.

You did the right thing by telling me, Dorie. I want all of you to stay put while I go get Jamie. Shame on you all.”

As Mrs. Sheridan disappeared out the door, Donnie gave Dorie’s desk a hard shove with his foot, almost toppling her over. The others were quiet, studying their lesson books. Jody tapped his foot like a woodpecker's drumming, and Sandy chewed on the end of her pencil, both ignoring Donnie's belligerent stare.



Several minutes later Mrs. Sheridan came back through the door, pushing it open so hard it banged against the wall. Her face was white with a mixture of anger and fear.

“He’s not out there. I called and called, but he didn’t answer. I don't know if it means anything but I saw a green van squealing its tires over by the bus entrance!”
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